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I’ve always loved books; I was one of those kids who could generally be found in the school library or in my bedroom, with my nose firmly between the pages of a paperback. But with the whole Books Are My Bag thing, I decided to have a long, hard think about exactly why I love books – both as a faux-grown-up and as a younger reader.

So, here goes…

Escapism. I’ve always read – everything from comics and RPG rulebooks to books about insects and fantasy novels. My childhood memories of Marvel comics certainly informed my reading tastes later in life; I was always looking to escape and imagine myself as something other than I was. However, the escapist thing really came into its own when my parents were splitting-up. That was the period where I read most voraciously and probably nailed my colours to the wall as a fan of fantasy. Life at home was pretty dreadful and books gave me an exit to other worlds and allowed me to inhabit other people. It allowed me to leave all the bad stuff behind.

Company. You’re never alone with a book. You’re surrounded by friends and can immerse yourself into a story so much that you’re almost part of the narrative. This really came to be important to me when I split up from my son’s mother and found myself living on a houseboat in the middle of a river with little or no signs of life around me. Without the intelligence or know-how to rig up my DVD player, I fell into the comfort of books, reading as much as I could, whenever I could. I think it was during this period that I made some of my bigger leaps in terms of trying out new stuff. But, whatever I was reading, each book gave me a new set of friends and a new story to get lost in.

New ideas. The best books for me are the ones that have something to say. That’s not to say there’s no room for the lighter stuff, but I like books to challenge me and maybe make me think of things beyond my comfort zone. Books are supremely valuable in this way, because you find yourself – no matter temporarily – having to assume the mind-set of someone who might have completely different views on life to yours. In my idealistic way, I have a notion that if we could all fully understand how the people we don’t relate to think, we might get a step closer to solving our problems with each other.

Spreading the word. There’s that lovely, but slightly bitter, moment when you turn someone on to a great book. Lovely, because you know you’ll be able to yap about it at a later date and bitter because you’re slightly envious of all those experiences they’re going to have that you’ve already been through, with the characters and the story. But it’s a great thing to be able to point someone at a great book and welcome them ‘into the club’.

Telling tales. For me, there’s no better thing than reading my son a bedtime story – and I’m dreading the time he gets too old for it! I’ve found some new and brilliant books just through doing this and I always look forward to snuggling up with him, putting on my best narrator’s voice and starting that first page. I like doing the character voices too, but that’s because I’m a show-off.

I’m going to be joining a load of other authors across the UK on October 11th in banging the booky drum and letting folk know why we do what we do, as part of the Books Are My Bag campaign. If you’re in the Kentish area, I’ll be at Little Mouse Books, from 10 o’ clockish. Be good to see you there!

So, it was off to do the signing bit. There was a sort of makeshift corridor of trestles and false walls, with authors scribbling and giggling with queues of fans and bloggers. I was lucky enough to find myself placed next to Bryony Pearce, who I’ve bantered a bit with on Twitter but, until that point, had never met. She was sporting a fantastic Firefly costume, which looked a little warm in the heat of Earl’s Court, but I’m pleased to report that she was as lovely in Real Life as she is in the Twitterverse. We gushed a bit about who we’d met and the she happened to mention that the tall chap next to her was Jonathan Stroud.

Photo courtesy of Bryony Pearce

Let’s just say I’m a fan. I love the Bartimaeus books and couldn’t finish the first of the Lockwoods because it scared me too much. Having not had the bottle to have a moustache-off with the Great John Hurt or pat Carrie Fisher’s dog, I decided to step-up to the mark and say hallo.

Like one of my other heroes, Philip Reeve, Jonathan is kind of what you want a writer to be: well-spoken, unassuming and sort of quintessentially English. Not a short twit in a Marvel shirt making a bit too much noise. Jonathan and his family were lovely and I found myself wishing I’d brought the Amulet of Samarkand with me, so he might sign it for me. Hopefully, there’ll be other times.

Darran Stobbart appeared out of the crowd. I’d met Darran briefly once before, at the Waterstone’s Book Prize, when Geekhood was on the shortlist. Although it’d only been a short hallo, I took to him very quickly and we’ve Twittered at each other a lot over the last couple of years. So, I hauled him over the table to come and sit in with me. I’m told that when I nipped to the loo, he actually signed a book, pretending to be me! I do hope this is true…

And then Jesse Owen appeared. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: Jesse might appear to be a bit shy but, once he gets warmed-up, he’s a hoot. According to him, he doesn’t get out much, but I think he’s lying. In fact, I’d like to issue a challenge to anyone living in the Bristol area: if you see Jesse out and about, Tweet me a photo. I intend to disprove his theory that he’s a shy bunny with an online “Where’s Jesse?” photo campaign. Go on, do it. Here’s one of him with people, proving he LIES!!!

Photo courtesy of Sarah MacIntyre. Jesse in blue, hating me for dragging him into the photo.

There were so many bloggers there that I’m hard-pressed to remember exactly who I met, but I remember being enthusiastically halloed by Blondie Camps, grinned at by Charli and laughing a lot with Books Bandit who was generous enough to forgive me when I thought she was someone else with the same name. And of, course, the ever-lovely Laura Heath was there, running in around in a hat not dissimilar from mine. I like to think I may have helped shape her blossoming fashion-sense.

If I met you, but haven’t mentioned you, I apologise – but it was busy.

I tell you what – if you RT this, then feel free to stick your name in this sentence:

And a real highlight was meeting……….

Hope that gets me out of trouble.

All too soon the signing was over and it was back to the Green Room to goggle at more famous folk and wish I had more guts to go and talk to them.

I don’t know how long I was there but, eventually, my body decided it was time to eat, so I snuck off for some food, before returning for the Post Gig Party.

The thing with publishing people, from fans and bloggers to publicists and authors is that everyone just seems lovely, like we’re all part of some Big Club and we all look out for each other. At the do, I saw Paul Black, who was looking after Patrick Ness. I love Paul. Not only is he consummately brilliant at his job, he’s got one of the most instantly-engaging personalities in anyone I’ve ever met. He’s funny and caring and an all-round good egg. It was a pleasure to see him. It always is.

Paul Black. Wearing white.

Dave Cousins said hallo and I saw Sarwat Chadda being very tall, but I was starting to flag. Malorie Blackman made a touching speech and there was lots of clapping and a group photo, but I was done. Shortly after that, I said my farewells and made my way back to my car.

The YALC was brilliant and everyone should be proud of it as an achievement. I’ve seen some stuff on Twitter about its imperfections – some of which I agree with – but I think it’s worth bearing in mind that this was the First One. Even LFCC had to start somewhere and I bet that first foray wasn’t the well-oiled machine it is today. The important thing is that it happened at all; details can be ironed-out with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight but, for me, it’s enough to say that I was there and I was part of it.

Even my basic knowledge of chairing led me to a point I couldn’t ignore: we couldn’t do the panel event without all the panel – but there was no sign of Rainbow Rowell!

The foot of the Rainbow

Help arrived in the form of Emma Bradshaw who told us that Rainbow was on her way, but she’d twisted not one, but both her ankles and would need them looked at. I took the time to check through my notes one last time, make sure my laptop and dongle were both up and running and to panic a bit more.

And then Rainbow was there, sitting at the other end of the Green Room, an ice-pack on one ankle. I went over and introduced myself and asked her if she’d like a quick butcher’s at the questions. Most of us have twisted our ankles at some point and I’m sure you’ll agree that it hurts. A lot. But Rainbow was chipper, cheerful and chatty – if a little chagrined. All the ch’s. She took a look at the questions and brightly declared that everything was OK.

And then we were off.

To the Boards!

I vaguely remember seeing geek extraordinaire, Jim Dean, and pointing at the blogging juggernaut that is Jesse Owen. But there were so many faces and we were being shepherded so fast that it was impossible to say anything. As we got closer, I offered Rescue Remedy to the panel. Only Lucy Saxon turned it down, possibly drawing on some comic-strip-courage from her Captain America costume. Tim, bless him, didn’t even know what the stuff was but went for it anyway. He’s since contacted me to ask what it was as it seemed to work. My and CJ Skuse’s theory seems to be gathering ground…

We arrived at the stage and I have a vague memory of asking everyone if they were happy to go. After a quick fiddle with the microphones, we got the thumbs-up and I found myself standing up in front of a Large Crowd of People.

No matter how many times I’ve stood on stage, no matter how well-rehearsed I feel and no matter how well-supported you feel by the people around you, there’s always that first, horrible moment where you take in your first breath to speak. Is it going to sound OK? Will you forget your words? This tends to accompany itself by an overwhelming desire to just turn and run. But, if you haven’t done this sort of thing before, here’s the trick:

Just do it.

I’ve never jumped out of an aeroplane, but I imagine it’s a similar kind of thing: you either do it or you don’t. The thing is, once you’ve opened your gob and that first sound comes out and turns itself into that first word that becomes that first sentence, it gets easier. It’s just that first bit that’s the Big Hurdle. So, do it loud and do it clear. The feeling of tension doesn’t quite go; standing up in front of a crowd isn’t natural and it does challenge your fight or flight instincts but, if you commit to it, it becomes much more bearable than you might think.

The bits I can remember

So, we were up and running. My blurred memories of the initial bit are of an audience who wanted to enjoy themselves, so I let them know that that was I wanted, too. I might be wrong, but it felt like we trusted each other, pretty sharpish. From the outset, I’d wanted to make it more of a conversation between the whole assembly, rather than a panel event that people watched – and it seemed to work! People gamely put their hands up and came on down, gameshow-style, to ask the authors questions. I was dimly aware of Bev Humphrey in the crowd, giving me a thumbs-up, which really helped.

The panel and the audience were brilliant, bouncing of each other and rolling with questions and answers. The few bits I remember clearly were Lucy getting a round of applause for her costume, me blaring into the mic that Rainbow wanted to write for Marvel and, later, putting out a call for Carrie Fisher, because Tim had a crush on her. The rest of it is a bit vague, but I remember lots of laughing and desperately listening to make sure that each of the panel had a good crack of the whip when it came to talk-time.

My Secret Weapon

I also had a secret weapon up my sleeve.

If you came to the launch-party for Geekhood: Close Encounters, you’ll know that, just as I started my speech, my then-eight-year-old son walked through the crowds and came and sat at my feet, just to help me out. Well, he did it again. If you remember the lad who came up and asked the panel which movie they’d like to be in – that was him. I didn’t ask him to do it; he just wanted to let his scaredy-cat father know that he was there and everything was OK. So, my top tip for future chairs is: hire a member of your family to sit in the audience and ask a question. It just takes the edge off. But make sure they look interested by the answer, which may have been where my son fell down…

And then somebody was whispering in my ear that we had to wrap it up, as we were out of time. By this point, I was feeling comfortable and had given in to my natural leaning towards Showing Off, so it seemed like a real shame. I gave the last, meaningful and poignant question over to Twitter:

“What’s your favourite cheese?”

And then we were done, being escorted back to the Book Zone, to take our places for signings.

The crowds; the beautiful, geeky crowds. I’ve hosted Geek Nights at various Waterstones and judged cosplay events, but I’ve never seen so many costumes in one place at one time. And these were astonishing. From a bounty of Boba Fetts to a very long sentence of Judge Dredds, there were people geeked-up to the eyeballs. My Marvel shirt suddenly felt a bit muted (although I was wearing a Judge’s badge on my 8th Doctor frock-coat).

I’ve got to give a huge hand to the YALC staff who were so helpful. Within minutes of showing my face at the door, I was being escorted through Stormtroopers, superheroes and Game of Throners, back to the Green Room. En route, I spotted Ewa Scibor-Rylska (@EwaSR) and we managed a quick hallo as the opposing currents of cosplayers we were caught in swept us past each other. Ewa’s a fine person; wherever and whenever I’ve seen her, she’s always looked happy to be there – but not in a gushy way; it’s always capped off with a wry eyebrow.

CJ Skuse and Herby Booze

So, back to the Green Room. I was getting nervous again, but turned to my Old Faithful – Rescue Remedy. I met CJ Skuse a bit later, just as she was about to start her workshop and she confessed to being nervous and we ended up chatting bout Rescue Remedy and we decided that even if it’s just a placebo, we buy into it. I’d never met CJ before and I’m really glad I did; she’s from Weston Super Mare, which is just up the road from where I was born and spent my childhood. I’d also recently read Rockaholic, which I didn’t get round to telling her how much I enjoyed. CJ, if you’re reading this: top book, Missus!

I’d arrived fairly early, in my Quest to be a Damn Good Chair – much earlier than I needed to and way before Rainbow, Tim and Lucy. So, I plonked myself down and went through my notes, which I’d brought two copies of: one for me and one for the panel to have a butcher’s at before we took to the stage. The questions were divided up into specific questions for the authors and general questions for the panel; my reasoning was that they could have a look at the extra copy and decide if there was anything in there they didn’t like the look of or if they felt I’d missed anything. It was also to help them retrieve and stories or points of view they wanted to pass on; I don’t think a chair’s job is to catch anyone out with surprise or contentions questions. I wasn’t setting out to be Jeremy Paxman.

Malorie Blackman and Other Heroes

While I was waiting and reading and spraying Rescue Remedy, people started to wander in and out. It was brilliant to finally meet Malorie Blackman. We’d passed at a literary festival last year, but she was doing a piece to camera so it didn’t seem like a good idea to step in and start grovelling…

For anyone who hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting her, she’s just lovely. She’s bubbly, enthusiastic, fiercely intelligent and laughs like a drain; one of those people you feel you’ve known forever within five minutes of being introduced. I also got to meet Katherine Woodfine, who managed to keep any stress she was feeling (and I’m sure there was a fair bit) completely under wraps. Like Malorie, she was happy to chat – even though I’m sure she had more important places to be than looking after a bewildered author/chair/fanboy.

Carrie Fisher wandered in, with her dog. I was too scared to say hallo to her. John Hurt came and stood next to me, looking all magnificent and old. I was too scared to say hallo to him – even though I’d grown my moustache as an ice-breaker. Paul McGann,Jenna Coleman, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss – too scared to say hallo to all of them, even though I shared tables with them, stood next to them or exchanged brief nods with them. It’s that thing isn’t it? In your head, the conversation always plays out naturally and you end up with a celeb from your favourite TV show or film as your new BFF. Real Life’s that bit harder: you don’t want to appear rude or weird or intrude on their Quiet Time; most of them were going to be stapling smiles on and signing stuff for the rest of the day and I didn’t feel quite right about bothering them.

Now THAT’S a ‘tache!

A familiar face appeared in the form of Sarah McIntyre. Sarah McIntyre was impossibly lovely with my son. He’s been a big fan of hers since reading Oliver and the Seawings and she took the time to make his day by chatting with him and posing for a piccy. It’s inspired him to write and illustrate a book which he’ll give to his younger sister as her first reading book. Sarah: the designs have begun and there is a character called Jigabov Jellybum the Giant involved..!

Although I’ve met Sarah before, it’s always been briefly; we’ve probably said more to each other online than in the flesh. I can confirm that she’s lovely and beautifully nuts.

I tell you who else I met: Catherine Johnson. Now, I haven’t read any of her books but, based on her personality, I bet they’re good. I have it on good authority that Sawbones is the way to go, so I shall.

The Gang Assembles

Tim O’Rourke was the first of the gang to rock up, looking suitably confused and nervous. We had a bit of a look over the questions and then his family arrived so he went to soak up the support that only your loved ones can give you. Tim’s a cool guy; wonderfully self-effacing and down-to-earth. On the face of it, he looks just like an ordinary bloke, but chat to him about his life, his work and his writing and you’ll find yourself thinking about that old adage about a book and its cover. I met his children and asked for any dirt I could pull out of the bag during the event. Turns out that for a significant part of his life, Tim based his look on 1980’s George Michael, replete with earring. I want photos.

Tim O’ Rourke reads another review.

Lucy Saxon was next to arrive, sweating under a blonde wig and the many layers of her Captain America outfit, aided and abetted by her mum. Lucy is also very cool and a geek to her core, giving me the low-down on what to expect from a Con audience. Like Tim, she’s incredibly easy to talk to and there’s not much off-limits. When we met in Holland Park, I asked her if she was happy to talk about her Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Not a problem.

In the meantime, I had an unexpected interlude, bumping into Adjoa Andoh, who you might remember as Sister Colette Griffiths from Casualty or Francine Jones from Doctor Who. I first met her about ten years ago in my other life as an actor. I was doing Casualty, playing a psychopath in an episode called The Ties That Bind Us. The thing is when you’re what they call a ‘guest actor’, you are sort of trespassing – or you can be made to feel that way. The regular cast have often spent years working together and have built up a rapport that can feel impenetrable to new bugs, like me. But I remembered Adjoa specifically because she’d been so welcoming and inclusive, so I went to thank her. As we were yapping, she introduced me to her daughter who asked what I was doing here. I waved the first Geekhood around (like the cheap tart I am) and to my complete surprise and ego-centric joy, her daughter told me that she’d read Number 1 and it was one of her favourite books! So I signed her a copy of the second (like the cheap tart I am).

One of the staff gathered me, Tim and Lucy together and told us that we had about 15 minutes until show-time.

When I was asked if I would chair a panel event at YALC, my reaction was something along the lines of “Hell, yes!” – but maybe a bit more sweary. It’s always like that with me: the idea is always brilliant. And then the reality of it starts to dawn and the nerves kick in and that big old yellow streak starts to glow. Normally around midnight, keeping me up until I’m too exhausted to be frightened.

But, long before the butterflies started flapping in my tum, long before they were even caterpillars, I decided I wanted to be a Damn Good Chair. I’ve had the fortune to be chaired by three Damn Fine Chairs: Hannah Love, Julia Eccleshare and Jo Nadin. As far as I was concerned, they made it look like a walk in the park, like it was something you just did; like it was was easy. So, I emailed them for advice. Uniformly, they said I had to read the authors’ latest books and really get to grips with their themes.

If you’re ever going to chair an author panel,make sure you do that. I’ve got reams of notes about each book and it helps you sort out what you want to ask. Might seem obvious, but I am notoriously stupid.

Reading the books was interesting; they weren’t all the sort of thing I’d usually read, but I’m really glad I did as it opened my eyes to different thoughts and writing styles.It also helped me nail what they had in common, which also helped to form questions.

Meeting the Two-thirds of the Gang

Me, Tim and Lucy

Before the caterpillars even chrysalised, I arranged to meet Lucy Saxon and Tim O’ Rourke one sunny Friday in June. Rainbow Rowell couldn’t be there as she was in the USA.I dare say it might’ve cost more than an Oyster Card to turn up for the afternoon. The three of us met up in Holland Park and sat at a bench, just yapping.I fired out some of my embryonic questions and we just sort of batted them back and forth. Both Tim and Lucy were easy talkers; just fire them a topic and off they went. We covered everything from trains and cosplay to the nature of evil. And squeezed in some coffee.

After that meeting, I went back to my notes and then to the Internet.Not having met Rainbow yet, I found some interviews she’d done on YouTube and tried to get a sense of her. From what I could see, she seemed happy to talk and with some good gags up her sleeve. I also wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to ask any questions that she’d been asked before.

So, over the next few weeks, I revised my questions, trawled the ‘Net and spoke to a few people I trust about what might make good questions for authors. Slowly, to paraphrase Richard Burton in War of the Worlds, I drew my plans against them.

The Problems with having a Massive Ego

In the meantime, there was my outfit to consider. Having been to a few cons in my time, the temptation was to go for something outrageous (I did have my eye on a Stormtrooper outfit). Thankfully, I was able to quieten my Massive Ego enough to realise Something Important: you don’t upstage the bride at a wedding. And I had three. I needed to think like a bridesmaid or a best man; look good, but not spotlight-stealing-good. That’s bad form.

Robb meets Dredd

So, I decided to try and pay tribute to as many things as possible without going nuts. I had a green, velvet frock-coat (Paul McGann’s Doctor), a Marvel Comics shirt, a pale fedora (Watchmen’s Rorschach), a Game of Thrones-style necklace and Star Wars boxers (hidden under my jeans, I hasten to add).Plus, I grew a beard and ‘tache in the style of John Hurt to use as an ice-breaker, in case I met him.

I spent a day rehearsing my intro and couldn’t remember a word of it by the time night fell. And sleep? Forget it. My head just kept creating possible goofs I might make and then started coming up with reasons why I might not be able to go. Faking a broken arm was on the list.

But this was the First Ever YALC – and I’d been asked to be part of it! Plus, my Massive Ego wanted to do a Good Job.

The day before the event, the butterflies had a good old tour of my stomach. No amount of tea could drown the bastards; they just kept on flapping. I think it was around 2am, when I suddenly thought: “Hang on- what’s the problem? Your panel is made up of great and talkative people, you’re all prepped-up and you’ve got a moustache. Just do it.”

The next morning, at 7am, me and my moustache drove to Earl’s Court and, amazingly found a parking space. By 10am, I was weaving through the crowds, goggling at the sheer array of costumes and generally soaking up the welcoming, celebratory, joyous feeling of a Mighty Gathering of Geeks.

You might know that I have worked as an actor for over 20 years. You probably know from my books that I’m a massive Star Wars fan. Being in Star Wars – surely that’s a Geek’s dream? The Holy Grail? Mecca? All of those things and more?

YOU could be in the next Star Wars movie. Yes, you.

Years ago, there was a TV show, hosted by Chris Evans, called TFI Friday. A little while before Lucas was making The Phantom Menace, Samuel L Jackson was a guest and he and Evans started talking about the new Star Wars. Jackson did a lovely piece to camera, begging Lucas to cast him as anything. If memory serves, he said he’d be happy with playing an alien street-sweeper – just to be in the film would be enough.

There’s an opportunity, folks. We could all be street-sweepers, together.

There are a few criteria, but cut and paste this link: http://www.projectcasting.com/united-kingdom/star-wars-epsiode-7-casting-call/ and you’ll get all the relevant information. Let me know how you get on.

In 1992, I had just come out of drama school and was on the audition trail, hoping to land my first job as an actor. If I remember rightly, it was a hot summer and I was living in a first-floor flat in Shepherd’s Bush.

At that time, my friends all lived within walking distance; we’d all been at the same college and where we lived was dictated by geography and convenience, rather than choice. But, for me, it was something of a Golden Time: London seemed full of promise and I had my buddies close to hand.

Eating Eggs and Edinburgh

One evening, I got home from a mate’s party, a little the worse for wear. It was late, but still warm enough to warrant chucking all the windows open to let some air and traffic fumes in. And I was hungry; that kind of boozy hungry that won’t let you sleep until you’ve sorted it out. I remember ransacking the kitchen cupboards to find that all I had were some eggs. I boiled them and sat in front of the late-night telly, looking like a slightly dissolute Popeye Doyle.

There was a programme on the box; Live from the Edinburgh Fringe or something like that. Anyhow, a compere in some dark and crowded venue introduced an American comic, called Bill Hicks.

Beyond the Swearing and the Smoke

Now, much as I love laughing, I’m one of those that doesn’t really do it on their own. If something’s going to make me laugh when I’m on my own, it’s got to be really funny.

Hicks was really funny. But he was dangerous, too. Up until then, my comedy heroes were pretty old school, like Tommy Cooper, Frankie Howerd, Morecambe and Wise and the much-maligned Ken Dodd. They told gags that made you marvel at their word-play or timing. They were light inoffensive jokes that made you feel better about life and appreciate its silliness.

But Hicks was different. He presented this persona of a dark force at work, like a chain-smoking, swearing demon, looking get out to the surface and destroy everything. But, beyond the swearing and the smoke was a beautiful message and intelligent thought. Even in my boozy state, I picked up on it; there was something about this guy I’d never seen before.

After he’d done his set, I turned the TV of and did something I’d never done before: I wrote his name down and put it on the noticeboard in the kitchen.

Dangerous

A few months later, I was walking through Earl’s Court and saw a hoarding, advertising Bill Hicks and the Dangerous Tour – and I remembered who he was, so I rang the Dominion Theatre and booked two tickets: one for me and one for the girl I was seeing at the time.

One chilly night in November, we went to go and see Bill Hicks – and it changed the way I looked at comedy.

There’s been a lot of argument as to whether he was actually a comic or a prophet or a political agitator, but all I know is that I laughed hard and came away feeling energised and enlightened. Hicks is one of those comedians that makes you think about the world around you. And, while he rants a lot, there is this underlying, beautiful – perhaps slightly idealistic or romantic – message that, once you’ve heard it, you want everyone else to hear. It’s almost messianic – but you’ve got to listen past the swearing and the taboo references.

Spreading the Word

A few months after that, I was in HMV on Oxford Street, buying a Bill Hicks CD for a mate’s birthday. I picked it up and looked at it, reading the reviews on the back, like you do. I looked up and, further down the aisle, was a shop assistant. He looked at what I was holding and just said one word:

“Hicks?”

I nodded. He smiled and put a thumb up. It’s all that was needed.

If I’m waxing a bit too lyrical about Bill Hicks, it’s still not enough to convey just what esteem I hold this guy and his work in. I still speak to mates about him, whenever there’s a political scandal or a new, manufactured pop act hits the charts. And one of us always says “Where’s Bill? We could really use him, here, right now.” Or “Where’s Bill? He’d have a field day over this one.”

Where is Bill?

If you don’t know, he died 20 years ago, this very day. I remember finding out and, although I never knew or met the guy, I felt something of a loss.

Revelations

About a year after seeing the Dangerous Tour, I was doing a showbiz job in North Wales. One Sunday, I was reading the paper and saw an advert for Bill Hicks: The Revelations Tour. I checked the dates, but I couldn’t go as every one of his shows clashed with the ones I was doing. But, like I said, once you know Bill, you want to spread the word.

I rang my mate, Miserable Jim, in London. Miserable Jim was the most tight-fisted person I’d ever met; tighter than two coats of paint. So, I told him to buy two tickets to this tour and, if he didn’t like it, I’d give him his money back. I’ve never been asked for it.

If you’ve never heard Hicks, then I sort of envy you: you get to go through that thing that I did 22 years ago: that feeling that someone’s unlocked something inside you and that we are all as important as each other. Yes, it’s sweary, yes, he smokes – but you’re in for the ride of a lifetime.

Anyone who’s read my books will know that I love my RPGs and I have more than a soft-spot for war-gaming. I love the release from the Real World and, perhaps more, the fabulous interaction that can only take place between people when they’re committing to game-play.

I was born a little too late to get into the card games that followed – the Pokemons, Yu-Gi-Ohs and the Magics of this world – although I did manage to get myself together for the Talisman game that was released in the ‘80’s.

However, since having a son, Hugh, I’ve now been reintroduced to card-based fantasy games and, being an old gamer, have thrown myself in the deep-end. I think the first one we really got to grips with was Munchkin, which was swiftly followed by things like the Warhammer games and the inevitable Top Trumps. With card games being such a staple of our time together, I was more than delighted to play-test Oddball Aeronauts with Hugh and his chum, Max – both of whom are 10 years old.

The Artwork

It was one autumn afternoon when I produced the cards and the rules and we settled down to play, around the coffee-table. Funnily enough, both the boys reacted in the same way I did to seeing the cards; the first thing they wanted to do was check out the artwork – and I’m pleased to report that the artwork is superb. It’s a bit hard to categorise; you might say it’s Steampunk, you might detect a drop of Manga in there and you might be tempted to pin a Fantasy badge on it. I think it’s all those things and a little bit more; the Crew, Weapons, monsters and Events are all beautifully realised in crisp, clean illustration that leave you in no doubt as to who’s who. For my two play-testing chums, it sparked some cheerful conversation about back-stories and characters. If there were ever a bunch of cards that have the potential to be given their own comic-strips, then you’ll find them in Oddball Aeronauts.

In fact, I’m quietly hoping that the designers take this as a hint and get their pens out.

Gameplay

The game itself is fast and easy to play. Without giving too much away, you play the captain and crew of an air-faring vessel and attempt to blow anyone who gets in your way to smithereens. However, just to spice things up, there are Event cards thrown into the mix; cards that can produce an unexpected situation than can affect all the players and scupper even the most tactical plans.

Rounds are nicely ordered, so that you always know whose turn it is to do what. Using Skill Cards, you can opt to do all sorts of swashbuckley things, such as Sail, use or your Guns or Board an enemy vessel and have at the swabs that stand between you and victory. But the features that provided the most air-pumping and cries of ‘Yesss!’ were the Tricks. These are just what you think they are: bonuses that give you the upper-hand, in an underhand fashion. Playing a Trick can be used to augment your Skill Bonus in attacks, defence or, if you’re feeling a bit lily-livered, getting away. For our game, it became a good excuse to backstab anyone who looked like they were doing a bit better than you.

It’s worth remembering that I’m a 43 year-old man, who was playing Oddball Aeronauts with two 10 year-old; we all picked up the rules pretty quickly and, as is the case with the best games, we found that the best way to get familiar with them was to learn by playing.

Off-the-cuff Gaming and Extra Fluff

I think our first game lasted about half an hour and the following two were even faster. Oddball Aeronauts is perfect for off-the-cuff gaming or if you’re looking for a game to get your dander up, without having to roll dice and follow lengthy plots. It’s fast and furious and the closest you’ll get to swashing your buckle without getting arrested! The other eminently-practical thing about this game is that it’s not played on a surface; you all sit round like air-faring gamblers, fanning your cards out, but keeping them close to your chest, meaning you can pretty much play anywhere.

If there’s anything I’d like to see more of, it’s a bit more ‘fluff’. Because the artwork is so superb, I wanted to know a bit more about the characters and the world they inhabit – but that could just be the RPG fan in me. However, if there is the chance for a supporting comic or some extra background material – I’d love to see it.

Oddball Aeronauts is one of those rare games that does exactly what it says on the tin. It’s fun, fast and easy to play, without all those arguments over rules that seem to dominate other games of this sort.

Righty-ho – here we go: I’m getting close to having 1,000 followers – which is no mean feat for a Twitter twonk, like me.

When I got to 500, I did a book giveaway, with a little painting of Archie chucked in. Never having reached 1,000 before, I’m stuck for ideas as how to mark the occasion – and I’d really like to.

So, folks, this is where you come in: what would you like to see happen to celebrate my first Twitter Millennium? A book giveaway? A drawing? Winning a school visit? A competition of some sort? Anything involving me turning up somewhere will have to be UK-based, but throw your ideas at me and I’ll aim to get the most feasible together. And be creative; I like a challenge! And get as Geeky as you like!

To those of you who haven’t unfollowed me over the last couple of years, I’d just like to say a heartfelt ‘thank you’ and I hope my generally dopey Tweets haven’t clogged up your feeds too much!